


The Intern

by suddenly_im_Mr_sex



Category: British Comedy RPF, Fake News RPF, Last Week Tonight With John Oliver (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Office Sex, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 15:50:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7898656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suddenly_im_Mr_sex/pseuds/suddenly_im_Mr_sex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are an intern on The Daily Show (set 2006-2009ish), you have a crush on John Oliver but are too scared to tell him. What will happen when your secret gets busted!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Intern

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, it's John Oliver porn, I know. Set in the daily show era as I have a lot of love and respect for John and his wife & family!!!

Your face had never been particularly good at concealing your emotions, if you were pissed off; people knew, if you were sad; people knew that too, and if you had a crush on a colleague; you may as well have declared it to the entire staff. 

As an intern, you were basically the errand girl for whoever was the most snowed under that day.  
As an aspiring journalist, you were surrounded by not only your comedic heroes, but a group of people with an air of intelligence and wit that you could only wish for. However, you couldn’t be faulted on your politeness, most of the crew knew you by name, the time Jon Stewart called for you by name, you damn near fell off your chair. 

Thankfully though, one member of the team who did not know your name, was John Oliver. Despite revelling in the opportunity to work on one of the foremost comedy programs in the US, you had always preferred British humour. There was something about the dryness, the self-loathing, pessimistic satire that came naturally to someone with a posh accent. 

To that end, you had watched John on Mock the Week, and while the US was just starting to discover his talent, you were well-versed. You had seen him as a gorgeous dork on the television, but this was years before you even lived in the same continent. 

The intern opportunity came out of nowhere, you had submitted a resume months before, and were told you were on some kind of waiting list. You assumed that meant, ‘not a chance, we’re just being polite’. Then suddenly, an intern breaks a leg, and you’re called in for an interview, resulting in the chance to be on the payroll within twenty-four hours. 

While the aforementioned events made it, at least probable that you would meet John Oliver, nothing could have prepared you for the level of humiliation you found yourself in. He said hello, he introduced himself, he smiled, you stared at his dimples for about five seconds too long, you said hello and proceeded to fall down a flight of stairs. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” You called as you scrambled to your feet, 

“Good, cos we’ve already broken one intern this week!” he called after you, you laughed nervously and scurried out of view. 

“The hell was that newbie? He’s supposed to be the awkward one, not you.” Rob Riggle was leaning against the wall beside the printer, watching pages slowly trickle out. He’d been nice, genuine, if a little flirty since you’d arrived, he was the anti-John.

“W-what do you mean Rob? I’m clumsy, it’s nothing to do with Mr Oliver.”

“Mr Oliver?” he snorted, “If he’s Mr Oliver, why am I Rob?” You were at a loss for words, and then you felt it, that spread of heat, starting in your cheeks but spreading violently across your face, tingling in your ears and down your neck. 

“Oh you haven’t?” He asked incredulously, you suppose it’s more a statement than a question. 

“Wow! I’m used to the interns being hot for Jon.... but that’s Stewart, not… Mr Oliver!” he grinned as he made air quotes over the stupid, stupid title you couldn’t believe you’d just given him. 

“Keep your voice down!” You hissed, slapping him lightly on the arm as he continued to chuckle.  
“Promise you won’t tell anyone.” You kept your grip on his forearm, your eyes pleading, 

“Fine, fine. I don’t know why you wouldn’t tell him though, you’re hot, he’s… terminally single. I say go for it!”

“Well I say, keep quiet, never tell him, and avoid him at all costs to remove any chance of further humiliation.” He raised his arms in surrender, 

“Alright.” He collected the last of the printing pages, “You’re a strange one, YN.”  
_______________________________________________________________________________  
“Okay YN, you’ll be working with Rob this week, he’s got a few more bits than the other correspondents the next couple of shows-“

“Actually, I’m ahead of schedule for now… but I heard John needed a hand for his civil war re-enactment thing.” Rob piped up, your eyes quickly turning to him, shooting daggers as he winked back, shooting you a thumbs up underneath the desk.

“John, think you can handle a partner in crime for a few days?” 

“Yeah, yeah, absolutely.” John nodded, his eyes never leaving the notes in front of him.  
______________________________________________________________________________  
“Oh my god!” You called incredulously, following Rob out of the meeting room. 

“Woah! Cool it newbie! Suggesting you help John had nothing to do with our chat earlier. Scouts honour.” 

“There is no way you were a scout.” He smiled cheekily, before pointing behind you, where John stood awkwardly, hands in his pockets. 

“Right so, I’ve written everything up, I really just need to film the re-enactment. The actual piece will be in the studio talking to Jon, I just need the clip to roll. Ready to help me re-enact a civil war I’ve known the details of for just over two hours?”

“Absolutely.” Things actually seemed pretty normal for a while, following John around. You were blushing ninety-nine percent of the time, so you assumed he thought that you were just naturally… a bit pink. You had a laugh about his uniform, and you finally found an inconspicuous moment to actually introduce yourself.  
You were almost ready to wrap when it happened, John had promised just one more take of him charging into battle, when he tripped, crumpling on the ground, blood pouring from his nose. Instinct kicked in and you ran over, crouching down beside him,

“Let me see, I did three years of nursing, I’ll be able to tell you if it’s broken.” His hands continued to clutch his nose, giving you only a view of the blood now dripping from his cheeks and chin. 

“Ah fuck, it’s definitely broken.” He whimpered, 

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Grabbing his wrists, you lowered his hands from his face, replacing them with your own, tenderly checking for a break.  
“It’s not broken, it’s just swollen, I know it hurts like a bitch, but I promise you it’s not broken.” 

As you moved your hands away from his face, you realised your proximity, your faces just inches apart, you felt bad for the guy, but your brain just kept reminding you, you were within kissing distance of John fucking Oliver. At least it was also providing medical knowledge at the same time. 

“John, man, I’ve got tissues in the van, you wanna go to the hospital, or are you aight?” The cameraman yelled as he made his way over. John sat up, still staring at you for a moment, 

“I’m fine, it’s not broken.”  
_____________________________________________________________________________  
When you arrived back at the office, John had his nose stuffed with tissues, an icepack pressed against it,

“Woah! I told you to stop groping the interns.” Jon Stewart chuckled, you both laughed nervously before you felt his eyes on you,

“I umm… I haven’t been groping the…”

“I know. He’s joking. It’s his job.” You smiled genuinely, enjoying seeing your own awkwardness in someone else, especially him. 

“You know this actually ties up the segment pretty well, I just needed a reason to throw to the clip, I can go on with a ridiculous bandage or something, do you think I can get away with saying it’s broken on the show?” 

“Sure,” You chuckled, “I won’t be there to convince the audience it isn’t.”  
_____________________________________________________________________________  
You watched John’s segment beside one of the cameras, covering your mouth occasionally so that your giggles wouldn’t be recorded, you’d read the jokes on the teleprompter already, but they just sounded so much better when they came from him. Everything sounded better coming from him. You were in deep now. 

As you wrapped for the night, you congratulated him on a job well done, doing him the honour of removing the novelty nose plaster.  
As if summoned by your proximity, Rob appeared beside you, 

“Sorry YN, but I am gonna need your help tomorrow, I can only lie for your convenience for so long.” That tell-tale blush returned, spreading faster and hotter than you ever remembered, your eyes went wide, staring at him, completely missing John doing the same in your periphery. 

“Okay, one you said you wouldn’t tell anyone, and two, you promised you didn’t suggest shadowing him because of… what we talked about!” You still couldn’t say the words, even with the cat, not only out of the bag, but knocking over vases and shredding the furniture. 

“I didn’t promise, I said scouts honour… and you were right, I am not, nor have I ever been a scout.” You glared at him, fire in your eyes,  
“But, I didn’t do it for you, I did it for John.” Rob clapped John on the back, his eyebrows furrowed, eyes as wide as yours.  
“Stop looking at me like that, both of you! Within an hour I find out that you have a thing for John, and that John wants to know all about you, I’m basically your fairy godmother.” 

You turned slowly toward John, who was still staring at Rob, possibly frozen in a mix of shock and rage. 

“You’re welcome, both of you.” Rob grinned again, hoisting his bag on his back and heading for the door.  
After what must have been minutes since Rob left, John turned to you, 

“If my nose didn’t feel like it was gonna fall off, I would kiss you so hard right now.”  
_______________________________________________________________________________  
The week that followed was easily the most sexually frustrating of your life. You had exchanged numbers and furtive glances in the hallways. The unspoken, underlying notion that his nose being back to normal meant that you would be intimate, was becoming too tempting to resist. 

As the theme music played, signalling the end of the show, and the end of the broadcasting week, you found yourself searching for John, finding him already staring, his eyes dark with a hunger you had never seen before. 

The crew quickly packed up their gear, eager to leave the studio, you and John staring longer as you moved closer to privacy. 

“Drinks at the office, c’mon, Friday night and our favourite intern’s last day.” Jon Stewart, peeked his head around the corner, grinning as your colleagues agreed, as guest of honour you were grateful, but you were worried about how long you could physically stand in the same room as John Oliver, without grabbing him by his tie. 

You unhappily accepted, and it turned out to be two and three quarter hours. Jon had made a toast, nearly turning you into a puddle of tears. As a few strays flowed, so did the alcohol, each glass of champagne weakening your inhibitions.  
After glass number four, you grabbed Rob by the arm, 

“Get them out of here. Take them to a bar, take them back to your place, take them to Area 51 for all I care, just make them leave.”

“On it. Just don’t do it on my desk.” He winked before whistling, the whole party turning silent,  
“I know a place that’s got happy hour all night Fridays!” He yelled,  
“Or my chair.” He whispered to you as they followed him out of the room. 

John had snuck up on you, his body crowding yours against the nearest wall. You felt glued in place and he hadn’t even touched you, his eyes raked over your body, reaching out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Fuck I want you so bad.” He whispered, kissing your jaw lightly, before taking your earlobe between his teeth. You shivered at both the initial contact, and the promise in his words. 

Suddenly you were pinned against the wall, his body flush against yours, the bulge in his pants pressing into your hip. The first kiss was soft, slow, and thoughtful. Nothing like the desperation you had expected.  
To avoid the cliché, the kiss wasn’t like fireworks, it was like Pringles, you’d treated yourself to one, and now you couldn’t stop yourself from going back for more. 

Your hand held onto fistfuls of hair as he kissed you deeper, his tongue playing along the seam of your lips, granting him entry without hesitation. Your unoccupied hand moved down his body as you gained confidence, cupping him through his suit pants, rubbing lightly to gauge his reaction, a groan rose from deep in his throat, he grabbed your wrist, holding it against the wall as the kisses became more passionate and frenzied. 

Trying again with your other hand, you found both of your wrists pinned against the wall. You broke the kiss out of desperate need for air, 

“Do you not want me to touch you?” You asked, licking your lips,  
“Because I’ve been wanting to touch you for so long now.” 

He shook his head, creating a gap between you, the only contact now were his hands on your wrists. 

“To say it’s been a while would be an understatement, my priority tonight is watching you cum.” His voice had dropped almost an octave, there was something raw, and oh so sexy about the way he was talking, filthy words rolling off his tongue like honey.  
Your head tipped back as he licked and sucked at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, completely taking you by surprise as he picked you up, his hands on your ass, your legs wrapping around him instinctively. He placed you on his desk, unbuttoning your blouse, his lips tasting every inch of skin as it was revealed. 

Tapping your hand away as you tried to loosen his tie, he freed the last button, his hands roaming underneath the fabric before removing it completely. He popped the button on your suit trousers, kissing your shoulder tenderly. 

There was something about sitting on his desk in essentially your bra and panties with him standing over you, looking every bit the professional aside from the damage you had done to his hair. As he removed your trousers, you realised how embarrassingly wet you already were, the cool air tickling you through your lace panties. 

His thumbs swept over your nipples through the material of your bra, he smirked, finding them in already stiff peaks. Cupping you through the fabric, he kissed across your shoulders, sliding the straps over them with ease. You were almost squirming by the time he unhooked it, throwing it to the ever-growing pile of your clothing.  
Laying a kiss on each hardened nub, he moved lower, trailing down your stomach, leaving kisses here and there, between your breasts, on your stomach, your belly button, your hipbones, 

“Lay back.” He commanded in that gravelly drawl. You did as he asked, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch as he sat in his chair, surveying you, his arms wrapping around your thighs, pulling you closer. 

You tried to watch him as he lapped at your clit, his fingers parting you, your eyes closing instantly. You were believing less and less that it had been a while since his last romp. He licked broader strokes from your entrance to your clit, his tongue entering you as his thumb circled the sensitive nub. 

You moaned wantonly as he worked you faster, that familiar heat coiling low in your belly. 

“Yes, that’s right YN, are you gonna cum for me?” A broken whine was ripped from your throat as he sucked on your clit, sucking one finger and then another into his mouth before working them inside of you. Your hips bucked involuntarily as he found your g-spot with a simple of curve of his fingers. 

“Fuck yes, cum for me.” He whispered as your hips bucked erratically with every thrust of his fingers. He sped up the movements, his tongue laving over your clit, seeing him like that pushing you over the edge. 

You sat up as you began to breathe normally again, grabbing his tie and pulling him toward you, your lips crashing together, the taste of yourself on his lips only turning you on further. 

“I need you to fuck me.” You whispered, a moan rising from his throat,

“I don’t think I’ve got any condoms.” He groaned between kisses, you jumped off the desk, opening the drawers and finding two in the top drawer, picking them up, you read the note underneath:

‘If all went to plan. – Rob’. 

You silently thanked his forward thinking, placing them on the desk before kissing him again, loosening his tie and furiously unbuttoning his shirt. 

Pulling it off his arms, you moved to his belt, unbuckling it and pushing his trousers and briefs to the floor in record time. He groaned into your mouth as you touched him for the first time, your thumb spreading pre-cum down his length. 

Rolling the condom on, you pushed him back into his chair, climbing on top of him and slowly sliding down onto him, both of you moaning as he bottomed out. There was nothing slow and gentle about the way you made love now, both of you panting and desperate for release. 

“Oh fuck John, I’m gonna cum.” He encouraged you with a litany of your name interspersed with ‘yes’ and ‘fuck’. You shuddered, holding him close as you climaxed, he fucked you through it, only stopping when you became too sensitive.  
Pulling out, he kissed you again, clearly following your lead now. 

Climbing off of him, you slid to the floor, kneeling in front of him, removing the condom and looking him straight in the eyes as you poked your tongue out, experimentally licking the tip. 

His hands gripped the arms of the chair, his knuckles turning white, 

“You don’t have to do this.” He whispered, ever the gentleman,

“You have no idea how much I want to do this.” You smiled in return, taking the head in your mouth, taking him deeper with every stroke. 

“Oh fuck I’m gonna…” the groan he emitted was a sound you immediately decided you would do anything to hear again. 

He watched through lidded eyes as you swallowed, his eyes seemingly searching you for something, 

“I’m really glad that guy broke his leg.”


End file.
